


Christmas, unlaced

by Ki_ru



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Christmas Party, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gridlock/Valkyrie, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Kinda, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mozzie/his wife, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smoke/Mute - Freeform, Thatcher/Lesion if you squint, commitment issues, most of this is light-hearted fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, Australia is certainly the wrong place to go! Still, Bandit doesn't mind attending a Christmas party where everything's hot: the weather, the food off the barbie, and a very specific attendee.They have some issues to work through, and what better opportunity is there than surrounded by friends with plenty of drinks and the faint sound of an 80s Italian one-hit wonder playing in the distance?
Relationships: Dominic "Bandit" Brunsmeier/Håvard "Ace" Haugland
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35
Collections: Siegemas_2020





	Christmas, unlaced

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [dualrainbow's](https://dualrainbow.tumblr.com/) [Siegemas 2020 event](https://dualrainbow.tumblr.com/post/636277860907319296/siegemas-siegemas-time-is-here)!! Thank you once more to the mods for putting it all together, you're doing God's work, and thank you for allowing me to participate :) Please follow them so you don't miss a single day 💖💖

###  Prologue: Puzzle pieces

“Fucking obnoxious prick.”

Bandit’s eyes are closed, his head tilted backwards to catch the dying rays falling through the milky windows, a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. They’re not supposed to smoke in here, but they’re not supposed to do a lot of things that happen anyway.

“I’ve half a mind to let him crash and burn tomorrow. How about that for a team-building exercise?”

“Some parts of a team have such a rotten foundation that demolishing them is doing everyone a favour.”

Like this.

The harsh words come from Kapkan’s mouth, delivered with stony seriousness. Ash nods along and it means much when the Russians and Americans agree on something. “I can’t stand his goddamn fake grin. Like he’s on the red carpet for a book he had someone ghostwrite. Creepy.”

Bandit inhales through the tobacco, slowly. It’s been going on like this for days. Always a different group.

“I’m just waiting for him to slip up and tweet about something Rainbow related, so we can give him the boot.”

“Self-satisfied asshole.”

“You do realise”, Bandit speaks up for the first time since the tirade began, “that you’re doing exactly the same thing as he is?”

Momentary silence. His eyes slide open, confronted with several outraged expressions. Badmouthing a teammate behind their back prompted all this and it’s ironic they’re this blind.

“No, it’s not the same thing at all, we’re -”

“How is it not?” He’s waiting for someone to bring up the infantile excuse of ‘he started it’ but sadly no one’s taking the bait. He would’ve laughed in their face.

“Why are you defending him?”

“Yeah, didn’t you call him a pompous idiot as well?”

Bandit shrugs. “Nothing I wouldn’t say to his face.” _Unlike you_ , he doesn’t need to add. They get it.

The atmosphere shifts; whether it’s out of embarrassment or indifference – they may not want to argue the point – is unclear, but after a brief period of icy muteness, Frost brings up Wamai’s heroic backflip from earlier and the previous topic is forgotten.

By them, at least. Annoyance is still pooling in Bandit’s innards. It’s an underlying irritation he won’t be able to shake off for the rest of the day, he knows this, a mixture of disappointment and distaste: they’re wrong, he’s not defending anyone, he simply thought they were better than that. Wordlessly, he picks up his bag and leaves the common room, with only one or two voices wishing him goodbye. He raises his hand in return and doesn’t look back.

Shame floods him when he nearly turns into the very subject of their conversation. Misplaced shame – he wasn’t lying when he claimed he’d stand by his words –, but shame nonetheless. Maybe it’s second-hand guilt, but whatever it is, he needs to do something about it.

Ace is absent-mindedly playing with a pen in his hand, leaning against the wall next to the open door, invisible to anyone inside yet unmissable for Bandit leaving the room. He must’ve decided on remaining where he is since there’s nowhere in the long hallway he could hide. Bandit respects that.

He indicates the exit to Ace with a jerk of his chin and together, they walk out of the building, shoulders nearly brushing in the narrow corridor. Bandit doesn’t know what to say, as usual, so he starts off with the wrong thing: “You’re not making this easy for them.”

“Oh, this is my fault now?”, comes the predictable, aggressive reply.

It was meant as an explanation, not an excuse, but Ace wouldn’t believe him either way. “Forget it.”

Ace’s cheekbones are tinted red. His anger is now diverted with Bandit being the most accessible target. “Nothing you wouldn’t say to my face, huh?”

“Yeah.”

The other man stops walking, stops dead in his tracks and stares at him. Challenges him.

Bandit turns, ignoring the sun in his eyes, and says: “You’re one of the most diligent people I know. You’re fearless and tenacious. You communicate extremely well, and you have a knack for comedic timing. And you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Ace blinks, dumbstruck.

“You’re also a petty, entitled bitch and one of the most self-absorbed people I’ve ever known. You don’t do anything if it doesn’t benefit you. And you can’t take criticism.”

“Well you’re a rude, manipulative asshole!”

“Petty”, Bandit repeats calmly.

“Fuck off.” Ace strides past him, agitated. “Should’ve stayed in fucking Nighthaven. This is ridiculous.”

_I bet you’re treated better when you’re friends with the boss_ , Bandit thinks and follows Ace. “You don’t mean that.”

Nothing further is said until they’re in the car park a minute later, both having stewed in their own thoughts.

“How do you do it?”, Ace wants to know, leaning against his Lexus. He earns himself a quizzical look. “Being the odd man out.”

A smile tries to fight its way onto Bandit’s lips. “What do you mean?”

“No one likes you either. How do you manage?”

Bandit looks down at his car keys so Ace can’t see his expression. “I cope”, he replies simply.

  


It’s a month later that they ask Bandit how come Ace never says a single bad word about him anymore, despite the two of them clashing so frequently.

They don’t understand why he shakes his head at them.

  


* * *

  


“Show some discipline”, Ace tells him and he’s not entirely joking. They sometimes talk when they’re alone; it’s easier this way.

He’s referring to Bandit nearly dozing off repeatedly during the earlier meeting, Jäger’s elbow his saving grace yet not alert enough to completely clear Bandit from any suspicion. It’s been a shit night, filled with bad nightmares and worse memories, so Bandit isn’t in the mood. “I’m the most disciplined man you’ve ever met”, he snarls, and means it.

Ace, from his high horse of trauma-less superiority, lifts a sceptical eyebrow. It’s a gauntlet thrown at Bandit’s feet.

“Know any people with addictions?”

“Yeah. A few.” Ace seems curious where this is going.

“How many?”

A frown. “No idea. A handful of people? Five, maybe -”

“No. How many addictions?” Bandit’s grin is toothy with no traces of friendliness.

It dawns on Ace. “You mean… So you’re equating overcoming them with showing discipline? Really? Isn’t it better to not get addicted in the first place?”

“Sure. Sure it is.” Ace can tell he’s not finished, so he waits. “Grew up in a nice neighbourhood? How much do your parents earn, hm? What did they do when you dropped out of your studies?”

“This again.”

“Yes, this again”, Bandit parrots sharply.

“I never claimed not to be privileged. You’re either deaf or talking out of your arse if you don’t acknowledge that. Still, I worked just as hard as you did to get here, so what’s your point?”

“All I’m saying is maybe you should shut the fuck up about topics you don’t understand.”

“You still smoke, you know. What about that?”

_If only I had the time and the crayons to explain this to you_ , Bandit nearly barks at him. “What about you, golden boy?”

Ace looks unimpressed. “What about me?”

“Could you kick your addiction if you wanted?”

“What are you talking about?”

They both know. He sounds insincere, for the first time in this conversation. Defensive. As if to convey Bandit’s point, Ace’s phone gives off a quiet chitter in his pocket, demanding to be noticed. Bandit would bet all his worldly possessions on the fact that the only reason the other man isn’t checking his like-collection device is to prove a point. “Don’t play dumb.”

“No, you don’t get it. The amount of messages I’ve gotten along the lines of ‘my mental health has improved because of you, please never stop posting’. The fans I’ve met, who said seeing me in person was the best thing to ever happen to them. I’ve raised money for charity, convinced people to donate blood – I don’t know how else to say it. This isn’t for me. This isn’t even _about_ me, at its core. It’s about helping others and always has been, to distract them from anything bad going on in their lives, to motivate them.”

“Who are you trying to convince right now?”

“Fuck you. I’m doing _good_. I’m having a positive influence on this world, in so many ways.”

“They don’t need you, golden boy. There’ll be someone else when you’re gone. They don’t need you. You need them.”

“You’re such a self-righteous, narrow-minded _dickhead_.”

And that’s that.

  


Neither of them apologises, though they inexplicably start greeting each other every morning. There are a few smoke breaks Bandit spends with Ace. They don’t bring the topic up again.

  


* * *

  


“- cook a five-course meal. I’ve spent _entire nights_ salivating over butternuts, I dream of aubergines, my stomach lusts for a truffle vinaigrette. Pasta rolls filled with pumpkin and a hint of lemon, roasted walnuts -”

“Yeah, I also get a boner every time I think about food”, IQ interrupts Maestro’s monologue bluntly, sparking a few chuckles.

“I personally am quite fond of jacuzzis as a way to unwind”, Warden contributes. “I’ve gotten too accustomed to them now.”

“Good luck finding a jacuzzi in the English countryside”, Smoke snorts. The loudmouth hasn’t stated his preferred way of calming down after a stressful mission, but no one has to ask him anyway. They’ve all witnessed him snoring up a storm all curled up in Mute’s lap, or leaning against his shoulder, or stretched out on the sofa with Mute’s hand in his hair. If Smoke was asked directly, he’d no doubt spew some obscenities and brag about all the obscene things he’ll do to his better half once he’s home, but they all know the truth: he’s a cuddler.

Ace hangs back once they’ve poured out onto the grass at Hereford and are making their way to a hopefully short debriefing, so Bandit instinctively joins him. The relaxed, almost giddy atmosphere has left Bandit untouched, his muscles still coiled tight around his poor old bones.

They weren’t the ones who almost fucked up, so they deserve the relief.

“What about you?”, Ace asks conversationally. “How are you going to wind down?”

For a brief second, Bandit is right there in the moment. He sees himself standing in his tiny kitchen, the brutal pace, vicious growling and shrill guitars of something not quite loud enough to distract him roaring in his ears, and though he might appear still, almost calm to an outsider, he’s hallucinating vividly about smashing every single glass he owns on the cracked tiles below his feet.

He knows it’s cringy. He has better shit to do, but he also knows he will have a beer or two, and he’ll seek out music supporting the incessant adrenaline, and he’ll grip his beer glass so tightly he’ll wonder whether he still has some bandages around.

Nothing would happen. Too much of a hassle to clean up. And he wants to avoid the awkward questions.

So all he does is shrug, and say: “Y’know.” Even though Ace doesn’t, and can’t, and won’t.

Maybe he betrayed himself. Maybe it’s just a random idea popping up in Ace’s head. Maybe Ace has a gut feeling. Whatever it is, he suggests going out for some drinks instead, and Bandit accepts, and though a few others join them and Bandit ends up basically not talking to Ace at all that night, he goes home afterwards and just _sleeps_.

  


* * *

  


###  Part 1: What screams ‘Christmas’ louder than a pool party?

  


“When I was still a little brat”, Thatcher continues griping, “Christmas deserved to be called _White_ Christmas. We actually had snow. We had so much snow that I vividly remember having to shovel our entire pavement outside, and that of our neighbours, because I was young and spry and no one batted an eye at letting children do all the work.”

“Ah yes, the good ol’ times of child labour”, Bandit muses and takes great satisfaction in the way Lesion has to cough to stifle a giggle.

“The whole commercialisation is bad enough, it should be about contentedness and modesty, if anything – Mary and Joseph didn’t gift each other expensive watches or make-up, they slept in a _barn_ for God’s sake. I mean, I don’t give a rat’s arse about Christmas these days anymore -”

_Who would’ve thought?_ , Bandit shows on his face and Lesion’s eyes crinkle.

“- but this?! This is ridiculous. This is a travesty. What is this?” Thatcher generously indicates the outside rushing past them as Gridlock skilfully performs risky passes on the motorway. “I’m bloody _melting_! Christmas at 40°C?! This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“You’re right, the Australians should really move Christmas by half a year”, Lesion agrees easily, prompting a cackle from the driver’s seat.

“This is _beach weather_ ”, Thatcher continues in a tone so condescending only Englishmen could produce it in connection with this particular term. “I should’ve worn something different.”

“Is this a bad time to recommend cargo pants with zip-off legs?”, asks Lesion helpfully and points to the very same he’s currently wearing – zipped off, of course.

“Should’ve borrowed a kilt from Seamus”, Gridlock adds and turns so sharply Bandit almost ends up in Thatcher’s lap.

Lesion looks a little _too_ interested over the prospect of seeing Thatcher don a kilt.

“Does this happen every year? How do you people cope? You can’t even play half of the Christmas songs out there, they all feature snow!”

“It’s true”, Gridlock admits, “when I was younger, we gathered our family together to sing ‘vamos a la playa’.”

True horror begins to creep into Thatcher’s features. Turning to Bandit, he whispers: “She’s joking, right? Tell me she’s joking.”

“I think she’s serious”, Bandit stage-whispers back, barely keeping his composure while Lesion vibrates next to him in suppressed laughter.

  


With the usual yearly bushfires raging on in the Australian wilderness, Rainbow was kind enough to not just despatch their two experienced Aussies but also a few other volunteers who were able to postpone current duties. For a week, they helped out wherever they could, and now that the worst is over and local institutions have everything under control again, they’re about to fly back around half the Earth. Seeing as their last evening is free of obligations, however, Mozzie and his wife Jo invited them for a pre-Christmas party. It being the 6th of December, it even counts as a minor holiday for Bandit.

Their home reminds Bandit of a typical suburban residence: front yard, large garden out back, a wide house rather than tall. Having grown up watching a lot of American films, this has always been his dream house – his own name on the doorbell, a comfy chair on the porch, a huge kitchen, spacious living room, spare bedrooms to accommodate any spontaneous guests, a stocked fridge…

If he actually owned a house like this, he’d probably end up giving it to his brother, thinking about it. This is a house to grow up in, first and foremost, not a house to grow old in. Not yet.

“I hope you came with an empty stomach”, Jo greets them at the door, ever-present shrewd smile emphasising her dimples. She’s a small, strong woman, a true match for Mozzie in most regards and dressed casually, barefoot with her long dark hair in a ponytail. Gridlock gets greeted first with a bear hug, then Bandit with a loud smack on his cheek, and even Lesion invites a hug. Thatcher hovers awkwardly until Jo shakes his hand and tells him she’s heard _a lot_ about him, which the vain old bastard takes as a compliment. They’re ushered into the home and invited to join Jo in her lack of footwear, which Bandit and Gridlock gladly accept.

The rooms are bright and scattered with personal memorabilia, postcards and mugs from around the world (Jo’s budding collection), impressive LEGO sculptures, children’s toys. It’s instantly cosy. Voices trickle in from the other side of the house which seems to be their destination: a table is set on the back porch, mercifully sheltered from the blinding sun, and a bare-chested Mozzie is busy setting up a barbecue while chatting with the other guests Jo must’ve picked up earlier.

Valkyrie jumps up as soon as Gridlock steps outside and gives her a quick peck on the lips, greeting the others with a general wave, whereas Ace and his female companion remain seated. He seems to have brought along a new acquaintance, a beautiful brunette firefighter they all met during their deployment – she and Ace got along great, apparently well enough that he invited her.

“Michaela, but just call me Miki”, she says and beams at them. Bandit tries desperately not to take an immediate dislike to her and succeeds: she’s competent and friendly enough, if a little too chatty for his tastes, but she hasn’t done anything to him and besides, she’s a guest like he is. It’s not her fault. Not her fault that -

“Moz, I remembered something on the way here”, Gridlock addresses her best friend loudly, “and I was wondering – did your family also sing ‘vamos a la playa’ at Christmas?”

“Absolutely”, Mozzie shoots back without missing a beat, _just_ casual enough to be convincing. “Weird how that became a tradition, right?”

“Oh my god, I thought my family was the only one who did that!”, Miki pipes up, clearly having noticed the thinly-veiled horror on Thatcher’s face and happily joining in.

_Okay_ , decides Bandit, _she can stay_. Out loud, he states: “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring a date.”

A brief pause has them check their surroundings and pair everyone up: Mozzie and Jo, obviously, Gridlock and Valkyrie being a relatively new couple, Ace having brought Miki, Bandit by himself, and then…

“Just join an existing pair, Dom”, Jo chimes in cheerfully before either Thatcher or Lesion have a chance to acknowledge the situation, “nothing wrong with polyamory.”

And Ace is just looking at him funny.

  


Despite the sweltering temperatures, the hosts do a tremendous job of making everyone feel welcome. Ice cool drinks are offered, as is a dip in the recently installed pool (an offer Valkyrie immediately takes up). The two are born entertainers, never allowing for an awkward lull in conversation or anyone to feel left out, and so Thatcher gets to recount a few familiar anecdotes, Lesion is accommodated with a sheer endless supply of iced coffee, and even Ace is prompted to brag a bit. The food is delicious, the meat and seafood cooked to perfection and the various provided salads just as tasty. The Aussies are having a blast making up more and more outlandish Christmas traditions, not knowing Thatcher is still preoccupied with the fact that they’re having a _barbecue_ at a _Christmas party_.

And the entire time, Ace is looking at him funny.

Bandit knows why, and it amuses him to no end. It’s the first time Ace is witnessing him interact with friends instead of colleagues and he has no idea how to deal with it. Bandit isn’t at work to make friends – nor enemies, for that matter –, so he keeps his distance, stays at a superficial level. There’s a sharp cut between work hours and his free time, a measure he was forced to take to keep his sanity. He needs this clear separation. Therefore, no one begrudges him his clear lack of favouritism at the workplace, no one bats an eye when he sharply criticises a close friend as he might do a total stranger.

But Ace only knows him like that. And if he’s honest, Bandit is getting a kick out of the dumb face he’s making.

Now and then, he steals away with someone to talk to them in private – not necessarily to discuss anything delicate, but he prefers personal communication to groups. He and Mozzie marvel at his current bikes, a dirt bike for practical use, and a flashy one to show off. He and Gridlock discuss her family situation, how her siblings are doing and how they’re managing the farm in her absence. And then he and Jo end up in the kitchen, which is somehow always the room of choice for revelations like these.

  


“You’re kidding”, he says, because he didn’t expect it – and neither did they, from the sounds of it –, even though Jo’s wide smile lets him know unmistakeably that she isn’t joking at all. “Come here. That’s amazing.” She laughs into his embrace, returning it. “You gotta make sure you don’t neglect little Liam though, or you’ll end up raising another Mozzie.”

“No one would want _that_ ”, she agrees with a chuckle. “The two of them don’t know about their soon-to-be sibling yet, but we’re planning on telling them in the coming weeks.”

“I’m so happy for you. Congratulations. Are you hoping for another boy or another girl?”

“I don’t think either of us has a preference. Though Max might want another boy.” Her glowing smile slips into something more wistful and Bandit immediately guesses why.

“He won’t be around much, will he?”

She evades his gaze with a sigh. “I knew that would happen. We both knew. We videochat every day, the kids and I together with him on the other side of the world, but it’s just not the same. And with Tori gone as well…” Jo shrugs. “This might end up being the last time we see each other in person this year.”

“He’ll take a break once the date gets close, trust me.”

“I don’t want him to. I’d never want him to choose between us and the job. He shouldn’t have to.”

“Jo. He’ll want to.”

“I know, but he doesn’t -”

She stops when Ace materialises in the doorway, clearly noticing he’s interrupting something. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Don’t worry, Håvard, come in.” She waves him inside, managing to produce a genuine smile and for that alone, Bandit briefly takes her hand and squeezes it, eliciting a grateful look in his direction. No outsider would ever guess the stress she’s under from too many sources, but it’s not a façade she puts on: at her core, she’s an optimist and a cheerful, content person. She never allows anything to drag her down for long.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, Moz- Max told me where to find everything. Your house is lovely, by the way. I don’t know if I’ve told you before, but I love it. It’s so roomy and comfortable.”

Jo chuckles and thanks him for his babbling (does he really need another drink?) before Mozzie calls out her name, so she excuses herself and leaves them to it.

“If I ever catch you saying a single bad word about her, you’re done”, Bandit informs Ace calmly, prompting a snort.

“I’d never. Dude, I’m being serious. She’s great. Mozzie let me try 18 year old rum. Do you also want one of these?”

Bumbling around the kitchen like this, opening and closing cupboards seemingly at random, he reminds Bandit more of a dog than the unapproachable braggart he normally is. There’s no doubt he’s having fun, he even joined in teasing Thatcher despite his usual stance of demanding respect for the decorated operator, and so he’s softer around the edges, more honest, more direct, more impulsive.

“What are you making?”

“Hard cider with Fireball. I met God the first time I drank it.”

“Sounds like I should try it.”

Ace makes a second round through the room, grabbing another bottle from the fridge, getting more ice, another glass. “You guys are close.”

“We are”, Bandit confirms.

“I wouldn’t have thought. He’s such a show-off, and you normally don’t like people who hog the limelight. Is that how the expression goes?”

A smile is tugging at the corners of his lips. Ace is focusing entirely on pouring the correct mix of apple cider and the cinnamon whisky liqueur, so Bandit can watch him with impunity. He dressed up, moreso than usual, and Bandit guesses half of it is for Miki’s benefit, the other half as a boost of confidence. Ace’s rapport with the rest of Rainbow has been so-so, and Bandit can tell he’s nervous whenever he’s in a group of established friends. His patterned shirt with one too many buttons undone serves as a reassurance just like his white shorts and the scattered pieces of jewellery he donned. Like Bandit, he’s pattering around the house barefoot.

“Moz and I have similar interests, I suppose”, he replies. “It all went downhill from there. We’re like a house on fire. Jo is a gift to this earth, and Tori equally great. This is the first time I’m visiting their home, though I’ve met their kids a couple of times.”

“Aww”, makes Ace and takes a big gulp of his concoction. “Are they cute?”

“The cutest.” Bandit also takes a slip and lets the taste linger on his tongue. It reminds him of baked apples, a dessert he always had on Christmas: it’s sweet, the cinnamon flattering the fruity flavour, and it leaves behind a trace of hotness in his throat. “This… is really good. A bit on the sweet side, but the cider helps.”

“Right? This shit goes directly to my head. I could drink litres of it, but be careful, you really can’t taste the alcohol with Fireball. I’ve made that mistake in the past.”

He’s really quite chatty. Bandit continues sipping the refreshing drink as he lets Ace ramble on, wondering when they became so comfortable with each other. The entire atmosphere must be affecting them, the whole-heartedness of their hosts, the relief of having finished a job, the timelessness of today. It feels like an endless summer where everything’s possible and everything’s allowed – here, no one judges, no one says no. Breathing is an active task with how stuffy the air is, but it carries a sense of accomplishment so simply _existing_ is enough for the moment.

“Miki is nice too”, he interrupts Ace mid-sentence and watches the other man deflate.

“Yeah”, he agrees. “She is. But just – you know, I guess I was hoping…”

“That she’d be more than nice?” Ace shrugs non-committally. “Some things aren’t meant to be, I guess.”

“I guess”, Ace repeats, clearly reluctant to keep the topic going. Maybe he’s wondering why Bandit brought it up, but if he is, he’s not letting it show. They drink in silence for a few seconds, listening to the lively voices from outside, a full-belly laugh from Mozzie, a mock-angry chattering from Valkyrie. The kitchen tiles are comfortably cool beneath Bandit’s soles.

_You probably should’ve paid more attention to her than your phone_ , he wants to say, though it’d only apply to the past week, not today. Ace has really made an effort. Why it took him this long to do so, when they’re about to depart anyway, is a mystery. Self-sabotage? Or a late realisation?

“I need a straw”, Ace bursts out randomly and places his half-empty glass on the counter, once again scouring the cupboards. Bandit takes a last mouthful and puts his own drink next to its sibling, condensation forming a ring around the bottom immediately.

There’s a shelf up on the wall behind where Bandit is standing, and when Ace gets to it during his hunt, Bandit wraps an arm around him.

Ace freezes up.

Feeling tension below his fingertips, Bandit waits and counts up, as slow as he can force himself, and since Ace hasn’t moved an inch by the time he reaches ten, Bandit puts his lips on Ace’s neck. His own heart is beating behind his eyeballs and its uncomfortable pace only increases the second Ace relaxes into him.

He goes slow or tries to, mouths at Ace’s Adam’s apple, nibbles at the overheated skin and breathes in the masculine cologne which is sure to drive him wild if he has to smell it even a moment longer. It turns into open-mouthed kisses against the side of Ace’s neck, a swirl of his tongue, nose brushing over the other man’s pulse point, and they’re decreasing the space between them bit by bit. Bandit grows bolder, nips at his jaw and puts his other arm around him, but then Ace moves and forces their lips to meet.

It’s the kind of rapt making out he hasn’t experienced in a long while: they’re utterly silent except for the occasional wet noise, their tongues are all over each other, leaving them dizzy, and their lips slide effortlessly. They kiss without purpose yet with abandon, turning off their brains for a blissful session of _Jesus Christ this feels so fucking good_ and when Ace’s hands land on Bandit’s hips, he moves his own to Ace’s tight arse and realises only then how incredibly fucking hard he is.

They both are.

Despite their laboured breathing, neither of them is allowing any noise to escape their throat (or any thought to enter their minds, probably). They chase after each other’s mouths, unwilling to part even for one second, and who knows how long they would’ve kept it up if not for approaching footsteps and a gruff voice having the last word over a shoulder.

When Thatcher waltzes into the kitchen, Bandit and Ace are standing apart, each clinging onto the glass in their hands. Bandit’s cheeks are burning. “You boys enjoying yourself?”, the Englishman mutters while sticking his head into the fridge.

If it’d been anyone else, they would’ve noticed what was going on, no doubt. “Yes, sir”, Bandit replies mockingly.

“What are you having?”

“Beer”, he lies smoothly, taking a sip of the very same.

“Good man.”

“How are you enjoying Aussie hospitality?”

Thatcher cracks open a new can and shrugs. “’s alright.”

_He loves it_ , Bandit translates in his head.

“Actually, I need your opinion on something, you know your way around knives, don’t you? Mozzie is trying to tell me that this butter knife of his was more effective than -”

With that, he finds himself guided by the elbow as Thatcher rants on. Managing one last glance back, his gaze meets with Ace’s, though he can’t read his expression.

  


* * *

  


###  Part 2: Puzzling pieces

  


Either the whole thing was inevitable – or all of it had been purely in Bandit’s head.

It’s deceptively easy to convince himself Ace has been as keenly aware of him as he had of Ace, that Ace felt the same itch in the back of his mind whenever they shared a room. Casual glances can be misinterpreted, friendly words awarded ulterior motives. They’ve exchanged more words in anger or agitation than comfort, that much is true, and again Bandit’s mind might be playing tricks for he interpreted their frequent challenges as a want for interaction, as curiosity. Looking back, it seems he wasn’t fully honest with himself and maybe this bore a frustration he let out on its source. Misguided, of course.

They did kiss. That did happen, yes. But whether a boozed making out is evidence for anything other than a seized opportunity, or even desperation, he’s not so sure. Could be a rebound thing, who knows how infatuated he really is with Miki. Sometimes, people make mistakes. Bandit remembers trading spit with Glaz once, can’t even remember the occasion or the aftermath, only that they decided together to never talk about it ever again. It happens. The question is whether it happened _here_.

Bandit couldn’t even say why he initiated anything. Whether it was Ace’s smell that went to his head, or the relaxed atmosphere, or the sudden physical proximity. Or the faint longing wedged in his side somewhere. He has no idea what he’s doing. And it’s a little scary.

  


The sun has gone down already, too early for Bandit’s tastes – he associates hot weather with late sunsets. Nevertheless, the garden is illuminated beautifully and the air beginning to become bearable, even if sitting outside necessitates bug spray. Much of the high energy from the start of their party has subsided, the natural tension of strangers, acquaintances and close friends meeting one another has given way to a comfortable low buzz and quieter conversations between ever-changing participants. Some have relocated to the living room, a few others congregated by the pool, Bandit and Valkyrie have stayed put on the porch.

“How did you two get together?”, he wants to know while chewing on pretzel sticks.

“Tori and I?” She grins. “Nothing spectacular. We’d been talking a bunch anyway. I think we’re just on one wavelength, she always makes me laugh and she’s told me she was looking forward to talking to me every morning, even if we just exchanged two words. We met up a few times and I asked her out.”

He can picture it perfectly – the two are similar enough in certain aspects of their personality, equally kind, equally driven. “How did you know she was interested in you?”

“Oh, I didn’t. That’s always been the most awkward part of my dating life, you don’t even want to know how many women I’ve asked out and got turned down because they weren’t into women at all.” She laughs, because that’s what she does: take defeats in stride. Bandit envies her. “But you know, there was one girl in high school… man, I worshipped the ground she walked on. She was stunning, smart, caring – I had it so bad for her. I never said anything. I flirted my little heart out in the hopes she’d get it, I was so starved for her attention. Nothing ever came out of it. A few years later, after school, I met a friend of hers and dude, I’d be lying if I claimed a little part of me _didn’t_ die the moment he talked about her girlfriend. But it was too late. So these days, I’d rather get rejected than experience something similar.”

“Sounds like she knew about your crush but just didn’t reciprocate.”

Valkyrie gives him an odd look. “Maybe. Or she didn’t know about liking women yet. Or she was also too cowardly to take the first step. I’ll never know.”

“People aren’t that blind. There’s no way she didn’t know, if you really were as gone as you say.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure”, she disagrees and nods in a very specific direction.

He turns and sees Thatcher and Lesion off to the side, Thatcher talking emphatically about something or other, and Lesion simply gazing up at him with a distracted smile. Bandit scoffs. “Are you sure the old fart isn’t just acting ignorant so he doesn’t have to deal with his own feelings?”

“All I’m saying is – Lesion hasn’t told him to his face yet, has he?”

Bandit mulls her words over and she lets him. She’s not wrong, even if she might not be entirely correct.

“If you never ask, you’ll never know. I live by that statement, and that’s why I’m together with an absolutely wonderful woman now. Is that a topic that concerns you at the moment? Or why did you ask?”

“Something like that”, he avoids answering the question directly. A short distance away, Gridlock and Jo are getting up from the side of the pool and start making their way over to the two of them. “I think I’ll go dip my toes in the pool as well.” He pauses once he’s gotten up, and turns back briefly. “Thanks.”

A little surprised, Valkyrie shakes her head. “No worries. Oh, and Dom? Good luck.”

He responds with a shrug. “If I need luck to get it, I don’t want it.”

  


The water right at the surface is warm, but the deeper his feet travel, the colder it gets. Bandit settles back on the edge after having pulled up the hem of his shorts a little, and slowly treads water. He’s not up for a swim yet, but letting his lower legs be enveloped by gentle waves is just what he needs right now. The pool is lit up from the inside as well, the lights moving back and forth on the restless surface.

_If you never ask, you’ll never know_ , she said. _If you never ask, you’re a fucking coward and deserve the misery_.

“I forgot my swimwear”, Ace tells him, regretful. “And there’s no way Mozzie’s would fit me.”

They haven’t managed a second alone yet. Even now, they’re surrounded by people, and though they’re out of earshot, it’s likely one or more will join them at any time. Part of Bandit is relieved, because he hasn’t had to address anything that’’s happened – but a much more significant part of him would’ve liked to continue exactly where they left off. It wouldn’t help matters, that much is obvious, but it’d be _so good_.

It’s not why he came here, however. With a deep breath, he starts: “Hey, I wanted to ask -”

“You know, I had a short talk with Miki.”

Bandit knows when it’s time to shut up, so he does.

“I told her I was initially interested but that I know she isn’t and that it’s fine. I said I liked her enough to stay friends, though, and she seemed happy to accept. Relieved, even. I think she knew what was going on but didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

_Dude, you friendzoned your crush._ “Good”, he says as neutral as possible. “I’m glad you got that worked out. Neither of you need that kind of stress in your lives.”

“Yeah.”

They lean back almost simultaneously, propping themselves up with their palms resting on the sun-warmed stone. Water ripples cause fragmented reflections on Ace’s front.

“There’s also something else I realised. I… might be looking for something like that, but I don’t think I’m ready.”

Bandit tilts his head back and blinks at the darkened sky. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess. I need to sort myself out before I end up hurting someone.”

Déjà-vu is lingering at the edges of Bandit’s vision, only the roles reversed. He’s spewed the same bullshit before, for a myriad of reasons, so it seems appropriate for him to receive the same treatment. “So you’re saying it’s not me, it’s you.”

“I suppose.”

Ouch. Rejection is never fun, though for some reason this one doesn’t hurt yet. Maybe because it’s a deep cut with a very sharp knife. The pain comes later. “Alright.” The soft splashing of water, the murmuring of voices around them, footsteps and glasses clinking are the only sounds for a while. “But just so you know, I don’t care.”

He feels Ace’s gaze on him. “Huh?”

“I don’t. Whatever it is you’ve got going on, I don’t care. I know you’re probably just saying it so I don’t feel bad, and that’s fine, I’m not trying to argue with you or anything because your mind is made up, but just in case you’re not sure or that it makes the tiniest difference: I don’t care.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re -” Ace is rubbing his forehead like he’s having a hard time understanding. “What are you talking about?”

Now Bandit is confused and beginning to get irritated. “We _are_ talking about the same thing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, at least I think so, but… you don’t like me.”

_What_. Bandit turns to look at him as incredulously as possible. “I don’t?!”

“Not in the sense of – well, maybe that too.” Now Ace has lost him completely. “Look. I thought – I don’t know. That you figured I was there and available, and we’re both tipsy. But I don’t wanna do that. I mean, maybe in the moment.”

Wow. _Wow_. Bandit is starting to understand. “So you gave me a speech about feelings, because you figured that’d turn me off of you. Because… why? Because I don’t do feelings? Because I just wanted _someone_? I think you’re projecting, golden boy. I think you should stop judging others by your own standards.”

“No. _No_ ”, Ace says a little too emphatically to be acting. “That’s not it. I mean, the first part, I suppose, yes. But I’m not projecting. That’s the point.”

He’s starting to get a headache. “For fuck’s sake, can you talk like a normal adult? What the fuck do you want from me then? Use your words.”

“No.” Following his blunt refusal, he actually looks like he’s pouting and dear lord, Bandit is this close to just tossing him into the pool in frustration. There’s a hint here, an implication wrapped in many empty words, and if it’s true, if that is really what Ace is failing so horribly to convey…

Mozzie catches his eye from further away and mouths a question Bandit doesn’t get, but he just shakes his head to indicate they’re fine. They must’ve gotten a little loud, though no one else is paying them any attention.

“You first”, Ace mutters and makes Bandit roll his eyes.

“My dearest Ace. If it was for me, we’d spend the rest of this Christmas party sucking face in one of the spare bedrooms.”

“Because I’m someone?”

“Because you’re _you_.”

“I still don’t get it. I really thought you just tolerated me.”

“Yeah. That’s on me”, Bandit sighs. “I shouldn’t – I just don’t know how to be, sometimes. I start arguments just for the hell of it. I insult others when I’m upset with myself. I suppose that doesn’t give off the right impression.”

“It really doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ace nods wordlessly.

“So. Are you still going to turn me down?”

He thinks about it for a while but eventually nods again. “Yes. I think it’s better for now.”

Fair enough. Bandit sighs. “Alright. I respect that.”

“You’re not going to push it?”

“Not after we’ve talked properly about it, no. It’s your decision. I trust that you’ll let me know if you change it.”

And Ace just side-eyes him with interest.

  


* * *

  


###  Part 3: We don’t need flip-flops, we have Ace

  


_Why do I always choose the complicated ones_ , Bandit thinks just before his back hits the largely empty wardrobe. Ace is on him in an instant, like a predator in a feeding frenzy, crashing their lips together and licking his way into Bandit’s mouth, covering him almost entirely with his large, strong body. Bandit’s head is swimming, still struggling to process how they even got here, his wrist still feeling Ace’s strong grip as he dragged him aside into one of the aforementioned guest rooms without warning.

They were joined by others at the pool and participated in a heated discussion about what constitutes a proper Christmas dinner (and while Bandit’s tradition of potato salad sparked indignation in some, Lesion’s comment about Echo usually having KFC trumped everything), then Bandit announced he was getting another drink but it seems he was mistaken, as he’s currently getting ravished instead.

It feels every bit as magnificent as it did before, though the earlier uncertainty has been replaced by flat out confusion, and so there’s an underlying thrill regardless. Ace kisses like a young god, and if it didn’t raise suspicion as to their whereabouts, Bandit would very much like to find out whether he fucks like one, too. He’s got thighs that could crush him and a physique Bandit will never cease to drool over, plus the merciless way his tongue is currently dismantling Bandit hints at appreciable skill. He basically dissolves under this onslaught, knees growing weak and hands barely able to hold on to Ace’s linen shirt as all his focus is directed to the attempt at keeping up with all this.

“What are you doing?”, he breathes against Ace’s mouth, letting him suck on his lower lip until it feels raw and swollen and _used_. He’s wrong, this is so much better than before since Ace isn’t holding back anymore, uncaring about the noises he produces.

“I don’t know”, replies Ace and forces a quiet _oh fuck_ out of Bandit’s throat when he pushes a thigh between his legs, pressing right where Bandit’s dick is rock hard already. His hips instinctively snap forward and the sudden pressure makes him cringe with overstimulation. Despite this, his cock decides it likes what’s going on, likes it a _lot_ , and so Bandit repeats the motion albeit more controlled now, rolls his hips against the proffered leg and moans into Ace’s mouth. It’s heaven. If he keeps this up, he’ll come in minutes. He grabs at Ace’s belt loops and keeps him in place while he humps him unashamedly, displaying the intensity of the need coursing through his body without thinking.

Something about Ace just sets him off today, triggers every horny fantasy he didn’t know he even had, makes his fingertips and his crotch itch, turns him wild. The reciprocation must be a big part of it – he wouldn’t showcase his burning lust like this if it weren’t for the fact that Ace looks at him like he hasn’t ever seen anything more tempting. But there’s a trust in here too, a trust which didn’t exist before and which allows them to simply let loose.

“I want you to fuck me so bad”, Bandit groans and almost, _almost_ creams himself right then and there. The thought is too much and _shit_ , he’s so fucking gone, so ready to just blow the second Ace actually touches him. He hasn’t been this charged in a long time, hasn’t felt the electricity crackling beneath his skin in a while, and though it’s elating, he won’t last nearly as long as he’d want to.

“No time”, Ace mutters and Bandit _whines_. Rational thought has gone out the window; who fucking cares if they’re suspiciously absent for half an hour, and who even cares if they get caught? He wants to wrap himself around Ace, feel him inside, have him pound – “I’ll suck you off.”

_Oh_. Bandit opens his mouth for a reply, but before he’s even processed Ace’s words, he’s already lost his trousers. Ace is kissing and nipping his way down Bandit’s body, stopping briefly to suck on his collarbone and stopping for significantly longer when Bandit lets out a strangled sound at Ace’s tongue swirling over his nipple. It’s hardly fair, Ace isn’t leaving him any room to reciprocate by clouding his brain like this, filling it with cotton, reducing him to a moaning mess. Bandit isn’t normally this sensitive, he really isn’t, but Ace is so fucking hot and _thorough_ and skilled –

And once he’s on his knees, he doesn’t waste any goddamn time. His darkened lips wrap around Bandit’s head without hesitation, leaving him no chance to mentally prepare himself, and then he starts sucking. And good heavens.

All Bandit can do is tilt his head back and look to the sky for divine support, try and distance himself from what’s currently happening to him so he doesn’t come down Ace’s throat immediately. His pace isn’t fast but steady, which is somehow worse because then the ebb and flow of unimaginable pleasure is predictable, so Bandit’s body begins anticipating it, which means he’s _even more_ into it. Like everything else he does, Ace is efficient with a few flourishes, massages the shaft with his tongue every time he moves up and sucks like his life depends on it every time he’s moved down and by now, Bandit’s hands are shaking. He’s taking measured breaths and looking to distract himself with anything, anything at all, and so he cards his fingers through Ace’s hair, chews on his lip, attempts to suppress his own moans.

Every flick of Ace’s tongue sends new shocks of pleasure throughout his body, and he doesn’t want to miss the chance to actually watch Ace do this, so his gaze wanders back down. Ace’s cheeks hollow out. By now, one of his hands is cradling Bandit’s balls, massaging them in time with the bobbing of his head. And his icy blue eyes snap upwards to meet Bandit’s own. He looks gorgeous. Even more so with the mixture of mirth and satisfaction in his expression, betraying how much he’s enjoying himself as well – the corners of his mouth are turned upwards while their gazes are locked, and he seems utterly unabashed of the wet noises he’s making.

“I’m gonna come”, Bandit bursts out, unexpected even for himself, but it’s the truth: if this continues for a single second, his orgasm will overtake him.

So of course, the bastard before him withdraws entirely and beams up at him like having gotten to suck Bandit’s dick has been the highlight of his entire year.

“No no no”, Bandit pulls on his shoulders to try and get him to continue, and for a second, he _hates_ Ace’s smug little face, “please, don’t do this to me. I’m so close. Please.”

He must’ve been polite enough, because Ace parts his lips again, but instead of reverting to his previous pace, he envelops only the glistening head, swirls over it with his tongue, suckles lightly. It’s enough to drag Bandit back to the edge yet not nearly enough to push him over.

“Don’t make me beg.”

Ace shoots him a grin. “You can come like this.” And he starts lazily tonguing the underside, right over the sensitive spot.

It sounds like a challenge, and besides, Bandit has veered from want to need to despair now, so he doesn’t really have any other choice. Teeth clenched in concentration, he meets Ace’s mouth with minuscule motions of his hips, just enough to spark some more pleasure pooling low in his belly. His mind strays once more, envisioning a future revenge for being left hanging like this, pictures incapacitating Ace in some way, tying him up, teasing him for a while and then riding him at Bandit’s own pace, slamming his hips down over and over until Ace is balls deep -

God, he feels it coming. The onset is incredibly slow and feels like an avalanche: sluggish yet intensely powerful. Bandit focuses on Ace’s tongue, the steel blue gaze never leaving his face, the fingertips brushing over his balls, the heat of Ace’s mouth. He’s getting there, he’ll get there soon, his legs are threatening to give in from being this cramped and he didn’t even notice how high-strung he is, how tense, every muscle tight, as tight as Ace’s lips -

And when fingers press against the spot behind his balls, pleasure explodes somewhere inside him and he’s gone. Tipped over the edge, finally, he lets out a pitiful moan as he climaxes, cock jumping in time with the almost painful contractions in his lower abdomen. He curls in on himself, fingers twitching, as he spurts on Ace’s tongue, eyes closed, relishing the rush of pleasure coursing through his entire body. The ecstasy is as immense as the relief, and when it begins to fade, his legs almost buckle. Small pleasurable spasms stay while the elation tapers off, though it takes him a few seconds to get his reeling mind back under control.

Ace has licked him clean in the meantime and gotten back up, though he’s kindly still supporting Bandit to make sure he doesn’t keel over. He looks _extremely_ self-satisfied.

They kiss some more, granting Bandit a bit of time to gather his thoughts – enough for him to realise that he has no fucking clue what to think. Ace tastes of apples, a hint of cinnamon and semen, and Bandit wants to keep kissing him for all eternity.

“That was a quick change of heart”, he mutters, happy to feel Ace’s body warmth despite the temperatures.

Instantly, Ace looks sheepish. “About…”

“About you turning me down.” The following pause is decidedly too long. “Ace.”

“Look, I just don’t know.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“We should probably head back.”

“ _Ace_.”

“Let’s not talk about this now, alright? Also, you should probably leave before me.” He gestures to the clearly visible marks on his knees which would give him away instantly, and Bandit is inclined to agree, even if he’s back in headache territory.

“You’re an idiot. Tell them you threw up or something.” Shaking his head, he pulls his shorts back up, adjusts his shirt and slips out of the room, running directly into Lesion.

“I thought you were getting a drink”, he comments cheerily.

“Different kind of thirst”, Bandit grumbles. “Come on.” He leads the way back into the kitchen and fills up a large glass with crushed ice and tap water before pressing it to his forehead pre-emptively.

Lesion, who’s watched him curiously, asks: “Everything alright?”

“Dandy.” The icy coldness hurts his teeth and causes him to shudder, but he feels better after a few sips. “If someone says one thing and does another… what are you meant to go on?”

“What are we talking about here? Someone calling themselves a good person, then not lifting a finger to help others? Or someone always reiterating how lucky they are to have you in their life and that they’d love to have a partner like you, then going on and breaking your heart over and over?”

“Jesus Christ.”

Lesion shoots him a smile and it says a whole lot that his voice didn’t waver once. “I think I’ll also get some water.” They lean against the counter, next to each other, soothing their hands on the cold glass. “I know it’s my own fault, Dom. Don’t pity me.”

“Yeah. It’s my fault as well. I’m an asshole.”

“You can be.” They exchange a quick glance. “I have no advice to offer. In my experience, there’s some merit to the saying ‘actions speak louder than words’, but matters of the heart can be just as confusing as matters of the dick. Especially when you’re not sure which one it is.”

“I know which one it is.” At least, he thinks he does. Imagining spending more time with Ace is… hazy at best, he’s not sure whether they share any interests beyond the obvious and he foresees some difficulties in relation to Ace’s demand for publicity. He might want to post about them. Bandit wonders whether he can mumble something about witness protection and avoid appearing on selfies that way. Even so, it’s more a question of how they’d deal with each other instead of whether at all.

“Then you’re already one step ahead of Mike”, Lesion informs him and Bandit knows the bar is set pretty low for that.

  


* * *

  


###  Part 4: Tranquillity begets comfort

  


“At this point, we should probably let him sleep”, Jo decides, still playing with the car keys in her hand.

“I’m still miffed you won’t let me draw on him”, Mozzie slurs in her general direction, held upright purely by Gridlock’s hand on his collar.

The few party guests who aren’t piling onto the back of Gridlock’s pickup are assembled around the couch where Ace snores blissfully, a perfect tower of dice stacked onto his forehead somehow. His phone is glued to his cheek where he smacked himself in the face with it earlier while browsing, and he must’ve decided it was too much of an effort to pick it back up and instead dozed off.

“I did it, by the way”, Gridlock announces and holds up her own phone in triumph. “A playlist consisting only of remixes of ‘vamos a la playa’ for the journey. In case Mike still has any doubts.”

While Mozzie drunkenly cheers her on, probably not even sure of what’s happening, Bandit turns to Jo: “I think I’ll stay here in case he wakes up and doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“Are you sure? It should be my job as a host, but I’m the only sober one and Max…” They share a sympathetic shake of the head.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve seen plenty of stars in my lifetime. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be back here at some point, we can go then.”

She gives him a quick hug and nods. “I’d love that, Dom. We’ll be back in maybe two hours, depending on how long they’ll want to stay. If either of you gets hungry, there’s enough leftovers in the fridge.”

“Don’t worry about me. Drive safe. And have fun wrangling a horde of drunk babies.”

“It’ll be good practice for the future.” She winks at him and herds everyone outside, with Gridlock and Mozzie already roaring along with the first item on her playlist of horrors, and leaves Bandit in her suddenly quiet abode.

The difference is like night and day: with no voices around, no steps, no signs of life, the house suddenly feels empty and much too big. Bandit watches Ace for a minute longer, then he heads outside. It’s a mess – there’s only so much Jo and Mozzie could tidy and clean with all of them around, and so there’s shit scattered everywhere. He knows the two of them are picking up their kids early next morning, which means in about seven hours, so there’s not much time to clean _and_ sleep.

First, he empties the dishwasher for more space, conscious of not making much noise while peeking into every cupboard to find the correct places for cutlery and dishes. The plates go in first, then as many glasses as he can fit. There’s still a _lot_ left over.

Ace joins him half an hour later when he’s almost done doing the dishes in the large sink, padding into the kitchen yawning and stretching. “Where’s everyone?”, he mumbles around a sleep-tired tongue. His shirt is crinkled and his phone has left an indent on his cheek, plus the way he’s blinking into the lights is _adorable_. Bandit wants to lie down with him on the couch and just sleep. Bandit does no such thing.

“Grab a towel and help. The others are stargazing. We didn’t want to wake you up or leave you here alone.”

Ace hums while drying off his first glass at about half the speed Bandit would. He still looks really tired. They finish up in silence, groggy for different reasons – Ace sleep-drunk and Bandit just crashing in general, tired from socialising and being up this long. Together, they straighten the furniture, wipe surfaces clean and try to arrange everything the way they found it.

“I didn’t think you were actually nice”, Ace says out of the blue as they’re picking up napkin pieces which got blown next to the pool. “I was wondering why you had any friends at all.”

Bandit snorts. Talk about blunt. “And now?”

Ace pauses, thinking. “Now I think I could get used to you.”

“What does that mean?” Ace starts to reply, but Bandit is quicker: “And don’t come up with another fucking ‘I don’t know’, or you’ll end up in the pool, clothes and all.”

A pained expression steals onto Ace’s face. “… I don’t know”, he mutters. And, as Bandit approaches: “I guess I do deserve this.”

Few things have been as satisfying as watching Ace sail head first into the turquoise water. Bandit can’t help but laugh, at his defeated stance, his indignant spluttering when he surfaces, at the whole situation. His own phone lands in the grass a few metres away, and then he’s jumping in too, clothes and all, something he’d been looking forward to all day but somehow didn’t get around to.

Bubbles rise up around him as he’s momentarily suspended in no gravity, then he’s eye to eye with Ace again. The water is refreshingly cool and surprisingly heavy in his trousers. “Should’ve done skinny dipping”, he says, right as Ace whips up his own shorts from seemingly nowhere. They’re both giggling now, rushing to undress as fast as possible which it turns out is easier underwater, so they dive down and grimace wildly at each other, trying to make each other laugh and lose valuable air. Once their soaked clothing is drifting forlornly on the surface around them, their limbs entangle, droplets hanging from Ace’s eyelashes, hair sticking to his scalp, the entirety of his body available for Bandit to touch. Compared to the water, Ace is burning hot and so is the inside of his mouth, accommodating Bandit’s tongue for the umpteenth time tonight.

At this point, Bandit knows it’s inevitability forcing them together, not a castle in the sky, no wishful thinking. And it doesn’t fucking matter whatever Ace says, he won’t listen to another word out of his mouth, because he’s realised it’s self-centred Ace speaking most of the time, the Ace who drives people away and then laments being lonely, the mouth who writes checks he can’t cash. The one who gossips and vocalises no feelings for fear of being hurt.

Because Bandit is not the only one with more than one face.

This, the man clinging to him so desperately, is the same Ace who began showing a begrudging respect for Bandit when he did the same, this is the one who’d already realised Miki wasn’t the one he was seeking. The one who kept making promises with his lips, while the other Ace’s tongue kept retracting them.

They’re pressed against the pool wall, Bandit with cold tiles in his back and a warm body against his front, and can’t separate their mouths. There’s a reassuring honesty in Ace’s touch, a confidence he couldn’t fake, and so Bandit reciprocates gladly when Ace starts moving against him. He’s got a beautiful body and a handsome face, but the attraction Bandit feels goes deeper than superficial qualities. Lesion’s words resonated with him and made him reconsider his sudden move on Ace, though he’s comfortable with his own actions now. And Ace’s, too.

Free to touch wherever he wants, Bandit makes use of the opportunity to feel up every inch of Ace’s body he can reach while they lazily frot in the cool water, only interrupting their making out to breathe. The desperate urgency from before has vanished now that they’re not in danger of being discovered, and so they take their time exploring each other.

Still, there’s a point where they’re both breathing hard, clutching at anything promising to provide support, moving insistently and moaning against each other’s skin, so Bandit murmurs: “Don’t jizz in the pool. That’s disgusting.”

They emerge simultaneously, Bandit throwing himself onto the grass and dragging Ace with him, both grinning and feeling the weight of their bodies once more now that they’ve left the water. Finishing off is quick, Bandit climaxing first and raptly watching Ace shudder through an orgasm of his own, both of them leaving behind white strands on Bandit’s belly.

It’s getting colder by the minute since they’re already past the middle of the night, and so Bandit plans on drying up and maybe just wearing a towel instead of his wet clothes when he notices a worrying detail. “We don’t have anything dry out here.”

Ace stops sucking on his shoulder and sits up. “There should be towels inside, no?”

“But I don’t want to get everything wet searching for them.”

And that’s when they hear the front door open and loud voices pouring in. Panic is mirrored on their faces, together with a post-orgasmic giddiness, and they’re giggling the entire time they frantically fish their clothes out of the pool and put them on. Ace is wearing his underwear backwards and Bandit wipes the come off his chest with his shirt before realising his torso is covered in hickeys. “Give me your shirt”, he hisses.

“What, that’s gonna make it less suspicious?”

Jo steps outside to Ace wringing out the hem of his shorts, producing a stream steady enough to water a mid-sized plant, while Bandit is yanking at his collar. Fighting an amused grin, all she has to say is: “You didn’t have to clean up, but thank you so much regardless.”

Bandit immediately lets go of Ace’s linen. “Yes. No trouble. Thank you.”

“And here I was wondering whether you two would miss all the action.”

Ace opens his mouth and Bandit tries to covertly step on his foot to stop him from replying to the comment at all.

Fortunately, Jo has long understood she’s going to be the only source of intelligible conversation between the three of them, and continues: “Miki ended up making out with Tori while Meghan cheered them on, and then they traded places, Mike nearly vomited out the car window and Max called that one Italian friend of yours to try and get him to translate the lyrics. A lively one, isn’t he?”

“You could say that”, Bandit agrees evenly.

“Well, I’ll be driving you back to the hotel soon, but my offer still stands. You can stay and have breakfast with us tomorrow, as long as you don’t mind entertaining the kids.”

“I love kids”, Ace says with enough conviction to sound believable, and Bandit’s heart throbs a little. He hopes it’s not the wrong Ace talking because he’s falling a tiny bit in love.

Jo is distracted for a second which Bandit uses to whisper: “How about we _do_ sleep over and fuck really quiet?”

“That… sounds like a bad idea.”

“Going by your track record tonight, I’ll take that as a resounding yes.”

Ace, for the good of humanity, simply shuts up.

  


Later, when everyone’s been carted off, Bandit and Ace have been provided towels and dry clothes and a hot cup of tea, when Mozzie has long passed out in the master bedroom, when the three of them are huddled in one corner of the living room and exchanging gentle words to conclude the party, they talk about Christmas.

“Max and I agreed not to gift each other anything”, Jo tells them, “and we do actually manage not to.”

“My family makes a contest out of giving the best gifts”, Ace responds and Jo laughs.

“You know, Dom does that too, but with all his friends. I’ve had a look at the custom-print helmet you got Max, and it’s _gorgeous_. He’ll love it, I’m sure.”

Bandit smiles. He knows Jo isn’t suspecting a thing, certainly not the vast collection of mugs he organised from the other members of Rainbow, each representing someone’s home country. Mozzie helped him ship and hide the things, just like Jo did with Mozzie’s gift.

“Is there anything big you wish for this Christmas?”, she asks Ace, who purses his lips in thought.

“Companionship”, he eventually decides. “And maybe a new car.”

_Well,_ thinks Bandit. _I’ll definitely get you one of these things_.

**Author's Note:**

> 🎼[Vamos a la playa, oh ooooh oh~](https://youtu.be/sTsVJ1PsnMs)🎵  
> I had an absolute blast writing this, so I'm hoping you enjoyed reading it💕 If you did, why not [come say hi on my Tumblr](https://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/)?


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